


Pureté Oblige

by Donna_Immaculata



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 08:52:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donna_Immaculata/pseuds/Donna_Immaculata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill has always been Ginny's favourite brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pureté Oblige

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Wizardwank](http://wizardwank.livejournal.com/) challenge, with the prompts "cigarettes", "garden".

Ginny thought it must have something to do with Tom. She had never admitted it to herself in all those years, but Tom had not merely taken something very substantial away from her in the months he had possessed her. He had also left something behind. When she was younger, she wasn't really able to put a name to it. However, as she had grown older, she had picked up words and phrases and eventually come to realise that things existed around her, terrible, Dark things; and as she grew older still, she learned that those things were present not only around but also inside her.

It had to have something to do with Tom. She couldn't account for it otherwise. What she was feeling was not normal; she wasn't normal. Why else should she have those thoughts? How else could it be that the memory of that one evening, so many years ago, had suddenly returned to her with full force? She had been only a little girl then, not older than six, when Bill first went to Egypt. Over the years, she had forgotten so many, many things, but that one memory had surfaced all of a sudden and she could not get rid of it, no matter how hard she tried. Just like she couldn't get rid of her memories of Tom.

It had something to do with Tom. Ginny was sure that he had infused something into her, and she feared that she had begun to resemble him. Wasn't she just like Tom? Nice and friendly and normal on the surface, but behind her façade, horrible things were taking place.

She didn't remember what had triggered them. Her growing interest in boys had been a major aspect. But she had always been surrounded by boys, all her life. Her brothers had always been there, and not once had she thought of any of them the way she had begun to think about the boys in her class. Not even that one night, when Bill had returned from Egypt and had entertained them with stories of the pyramids and the mummies and the ancient Egyptians. He had told them that in pharaoh families, it was common for brothers and sisters to marry each other, because it was the only way to preserve the noble blood. "Just like with pure-blood wizards," Bill had said, laughing, and her mother had pursed her lips disapprovingly, and Bill had laughed again and changed the subject. She had not thought of it all those years, but now the memory was back and she couldn't stop herself from wondering what would happen if she had to marry one of her brothers. The thought was outrageous, and at first, Ginny had treated it as a joke, a lark, and imagined herself being married to George or to Fred and having the other twin hanging around her house all the time, because it was impossible to have the one without the other. Later, her thoughts had strayed to other topics, topics that were deliciously forbidden, but she had always checked herself before she ventured too far. Not that that was difficult. With Fred and George, there was a natural limit as to what her imagination could take.

And then, the summer when she turned 13, Bill had come back from Egypt to go to the Quidditch World Cup with them. She had come down to the kitchen, yawning and dressed in her nightie, and he was sitting at the table, laughing and chatting with Mum, and when he had turned to look at her, she had gone bright red. Bill had stood up and had hugged her, like he always did, and she had felt his heartbeat by her ear and smelled his scent, so familiar and yet so excitingly different, and that was the moment when the memory of the pharaoh marriages had flooded back.

Ginny had started to go out with boys that year. They were nice and they were fun and she had been kissed by some of them, and others had tried to push their hands under her blouse and one had tried to touch her between her legs. She had gone all hot and excited, but she hadn't let him. But she had started wondering what it would be like to touch a boy there. With six elder brothers, she knew what boys looked like, and she was fairly sure she knew more about boyish habits than most of the girls in her class (She had seen Ron and Fred and George and even Percy emerge from their rooms looking sweaty and flustered and she knew what that meant. She had also always made sure to rinse the bathtub thoroughly before she took a bath.) There had never been any touching involved, however, and she was curious. What would it feel like? What would it smell like? And would she like it? She knew the boys would like it.

She wanted to know what a boy looked like, but she wasn't sure she wanted any of the boys she knew to show her. She had tried to pick those whom she thought the pleasantest, but the moment she was alone with them, they would go all red and their hands would be sweaty and they would be fumbling awkwardly, and she lost interest in seeing what more there was. And then she thought, maybe what she needed was not a boy but a man. A grown-up, someone who wouldn't sweat and stammer but who would know what to do and where to place his hands. Ginny started wondering what a man looked like.

There weren't many men to watch, though. At school, there were only the teachers, and they were old. Apart from Professor Snape, whom, as she knew, some girls fancied. But it was those girls who, after class, would put on dark lipstick and listen to the music of the Dementor's Soulists and the Verevolf Vixens. Beside, greasy as his hair was, she didn't want to imagine what Snape's other regions might look like.

When she saw Bill, fresh from Egypt, tanned and laughing, her heart gave a sudden thump, and the forbidden thought formed itself in her mind: What would Bill, what would her brother look like naked?

She was shocked and confused, and her shock and her confusion only increased when she realised that she wasn't ashamed. From that day on, she began to think of Bill, at first only sporadically, but later quite regularly, undressing him in her mind's eye. She took her time, removing one layer after the other, until she reached the point when Bill stood in front of her dressed only in his underpants. His hair was loose and was floating around his head like a gleaming curtain, single strands caressing his face, his shoulders, long enough to brush his chest. His shoulders were very freckled, and his skin lightly tanned from the Egyptian sun. He liked the feeling of his hair feathering against his skin, Ginny knew, because she liked it herself, and his nipples tautened. Ginny's gaze travelled lower, and she looked down at his crotch – only to encounter a blind spot. She tried desperately to make her brother take off his pants, but her imagination refused to supply the necessary picture. Ginny gritted her teeth in frustration.

Her mother's voice right behind her made her jump.

"Ginny, how many times do I have to call you? Are you dreaming, girl?" Her mother stood behind her, hands on her hips. "I am going to the village with Ron, he needs a new set of robes. Heaven help how fast the boy is growing! He will outgrow Bill soon. Dinner's in the oven. Leave some for your father, he will be late. Bill's in the garden." She fussed, hurrying around the kitchen and busying herself with a number of last-minute things. "Call him for dinner, will you. Ginny? Ginny, I'm talking to you!"

When Ginny walked through the garden to the hidden little paddock her brothers always used as Quidditch pitch, she felt strangely calm. Something was about to happen, she was sure, even though she didn't know what. She was walking very slowly, trying to figure out what it was she wanted. Did she want to touch Bill and kiss him and be touched and kissed by him? She screwed up her mind to figure it out, but the images didn't come. There were several steps lacking that would lead to touching and kissing, and she wanted to experience them first.

Because she had been walking so slowly, she hardly had made any sound, and approached Bill without his noticing. Her brother was standing at the other end of the paddock, one hand buried in his pocket, and was smoking one of those aromatic cigarettes he always used to bring back from Egypt. Ginny rather liked the scent. She had come to associate it with Bill.

She knew she should have made her presence known to Bill, but there was something so thrillingly intimate about watching him for a while from behind a tall bush that she simply remained standing there for a while, staring at her brother. Bill was exceptionally beautiful, she had always thought so. He was the tallest of the family, and he was very slim and graceful. She loved to watch him move, all fluid grace and elegance. Her stomach gave a sudden jolt when Bill turned around and started walking towards the spot where she was hiding. Without thinking, Ginny sank to her knees and crouched behind the bush. Bill wouldn't spot her there.

But he didn't make any attempt to leave the paddock. On the contrary, he pulled off his outer robe, spread it carelessly on the ground and let himself drop onto it, flopping onto his back. Ginny saw his profile and saw how the cigarette glowed when he took a deep drag. Frowning, he took it between his fingers and brushed something off his lip; probably a crumb of tobacco. He then raised his head, pulled the ribbon from his ponytail, and lay back, propping his head on his bent arm. Ginny was watching him breathlessly.

Her breath hitched when, just like in her fantasies, Bill began to unbutton his shirt. Blinking up at the sun, he moved his hand slowly along the row of buttons, opening one by one, until his shirt fell open revealing a smooth chest. Ginny craned her neck for a better view. She could make out one flat nipple, brown against the pale skin, and a slim trail of hair leading from Bill's navel to the waistband of his trousers. The hair was a paler shade of red than the hair on his head, almost golden in the sunlight. Ginny's mouth went dry when her brain caught up with her and she became conscious of where the hair led to.

The next moment, the view was obscured by Bill's hand, which he laid on his stomach. The cigarette was trapped between his lips, his teeth, and Ginny could see his throat work with each deep inhale and exhale. But it was the hand that attracted her eyes magically. Bill's long fingers were curled ever so slightly, and she saw that they were not lying still. Bill was tapping them gently against his belly, and then he began to caress his skin with his fingertips, moving them in small, then broader and broader circles. When his thumb brushed over his navel, Bill gave a small sigh around the cigarette in his mouth. Ginny shuddered at the sound.

Bill flattened his palm against his stomach and seemed rather content to simply feel the warmth of his hand. But it didn't last long. After a few minutes of quiet smoking, Bill's hand moved lower, and then he cupped his cock through the material of his trousers. Ginny's first impulse was to leap up and run, but she forced herself to remain perfectly still; only her breathing shallowed.

She watched her brother's hand move against the soft bulge in his trousers, his fingers cupping it gently, lovingly, watched his chest rise with a deep intake of breath, and she had to press her hand to her mouth to stop herself from panting. Bill splayed his fingers and pressed his hand firmly against his crotch. The cigarette in his mouth flashed orange when he took another drag, and then he propped himself up on his elbow, flicked off the ash, and, holding the cigarette between two fingers, began to unbutton his trousers with his free hand. When Ginny's eyes darted to his face for a moment, she saw he looked very relaxed and was watching his own hand lazily. She had always imagined a man would look flushed and sweaty when he did what Bill was about to do, and it was strangely exciting to realise that it wasn't so.

Bill raised his hips from the ground and pushed his trousers down. Ginny almost fell headfirst into the blackberry bush as she jerked up, her neck stretched, her spine straightened, to get a better look at her brother's... cock, she thought, blushing furiously. She braced herself with one hand pressed firmly on the ground. Ginny watched.

Ginny watched Bill's hand stroke slowly up and down, watched his thumb flick over the tip of his cock, watched his stomach rise with heavier and heavier breaths. A loud gasp startled her, and her gaze flickered to his face. Bill's mouth was open, his face flushed, and even as she was watching, her brother's eyes closed and his head fell back. He paused the motion of his hand, took a deep breath, and raised his head again. He wanted to watch his own hand, Ginny thought in surprise, and she raised herself on her knees, enthralled. A ray of the setting sun touched Bill's face like a warm caress, illuminating the thin sheen of sweat gathered on his upper lip. His lips were slightly parted; Ginny could see the tip of his tongue glistening between his teeth.

Bill gave another loud gasp, and then a strangled moan, and his hand sped up abruptly, giving his cock a few sharp jerks. His torso and neck arched into a smooth curve, his hand stilled suddenly, and Ginny saw white liquid spill over her brother's fingers, trickling slowly down onto his belly.

She had been holding her breath, Ginny realised, when the air rushed back into her lungs. In the next moment, she pressed her hand against her mouth to hold back a gasp.

Bill's eyelashes fluttered, but before he opened his eyes, Ginny sank back behind the bush. Only then did she notice the heat and wetness between her thighs.

~*~

When Bill entered the kitchen, she was standing with her back to the door. Ginny's heart gave a thump, and for a moment, she was afraid that her face must have gone red. But to her immense surprise and relief, she realised that she didn't feel embarrassed at all. She was still hot, and she could feel that her knickers were soaked through and that deliciously slick moisture had spread over the inside of her upper thighs, but she was neither flustered nor afraid of coming face to face with Bill.

She turned around.

Her brother was standing by her father's chair, apparently listening to her father's words, but he was looking directly at her. "Where have you been, Bill? Ginny says she couldn't find you," said her father, and Bill answered something, his eyes smiling at her, but she was too engrossed watching his face, the way his mouth moved when he spoke, and then their eyes met. There was an odd glimmer in Bill's eyes; they looked almost yellow, like Crookshanks', just before he pounced. A sharp thrill of... something jolted through her, and Ginny felt herself blush feverishly, helplessly. Bill grinned and winked.


End file.
